


Expectations

by carpetsocks



Category: Milo Murphy's Law
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Arguing, Attempt at Humor, Autistic Cavendish, Autistic Vinnie Dakota, Dark Past, Disapproving Family, Formalwear, Gen, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Post-Canon, Repressed Memories, Self-Esteem Issues, Sensory Overload, Slow Dancing, Trans Vinnie Dakota, Transphobia, Yelling, cav's parents are assholes, meltdowns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:20:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29211813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpetsocks/pseuds/carpetsocks
Summary: Years since he last saw them, Cavendish's parents invite him and Dakota to their annual ball. They'll probably regret going later.
Relationships: Balthazar Cavendish & Vinnie Dakota, Balthazar Cavendish/Vinnie Dakota
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	1. Glasses

**Author's Note:**

> Overall CW: referenced past abuse, sensory overload/meltdowns, and anxiety/panic attacks. Also transphobia, homophobia, and ableism because Cav's parents are horrible. I'll put individual CWs for each chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: implied past abuse

“I’m ready,” Dakota sang, stepping out of bathroom.

Cavendish stopped fidgeting with his tie. “Finally.” He turned to his partner and let out a sigh of exasperation.

“What?” Dakota spread his arms and looked down at himself. “Did I spill something on it?”

“This is a formal event. Your glasses are a stretch at a casual gathering.”

Dakota frowned at him. “You want me to take off my glasses?”

“Yes.”

“Oh come on, no one is gonna care for longer than they need to feel superior.”

“That might be the case were you attending solo, but I told you,” Cavendish turned back to the mirror to continue his miniscule adjustments, “not to embarrass me here. My parents will be expecting someone who can match me.”

There was stunned silence as Dakota processed what he’d said.

“I’m not good enough for you now?”

Cavendish chewed his bottom lip. “You’re not good enough for their expectations.”

Dakota sighed. “I’m keeping the glasses,” he said finally, “I’m wearing a tux, my hair isn’t a mess, and I’ll act all proper or whatever, but I’m keeping the glasses.”

An alarm went off on Cavendish’s phone. Time to leave. He turned it off and walked over to Dakota. “Glasses.” He pointed at the nightstand.

“Really? I just said no!”

“We don’t have time for your antics! We need to leave now!”

Dakota crossed his arms. “I said no.”

“I told you not to embarrass me! You promised!”

“If my glasses are ‘embarrassing’ anyone, it’s gonna be me!”

“You will reflect badly on me!”

“I’m already pretending enough! Let me have this!”

“It’s not my fault you have to pretend just to live up to my standards!”

“Aha!” Dakota jabbed a finger at him. “I knew it! I’m _not_ good enough for you!”

“That’s not what I said!” Another alarm went off across the room.

“That’s what you meant!”

“No, it isn’t! Just leave the glasses!”

“I’m not going without them!”

“Why are you always so selfish!”

“Selfish?! I… I saved…” Dakota spluttered.

Cavendish took the opportunity and lunged forward to snatch the glasses off his face. Dakota fell against the wall with a cry of fear.

Cavendish froze, eyes wide as Dakota cowered away from his still outstretched hand. “Dakota?”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Dakota whimpered, “I’ll leave them.”

He crawled out from under Cav’s shadow and placed his glasses on the nightstand. He wiped at his face a few times before turning around and giving Cav a watery smile.

“Let’s go. Don’t wanna be late.”

He kept his head down as he rushed over to the door. “Dakota wait…” Cavendish said as the door closed behind him. He glanced at Dakota’s glasses, head spinning. He felt sick. His phone was still going off. Snapping himself out of it, he carefully tucked Dakota’s glasses into his jacket, turned off his phone, and headed outside to find his partner.


	2. On the shoulder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: meltdown

Dakota had locked the doors. Cavendish fidgeted by the passenger side of the car while his partner fumbled with the buttons. When it finally clicked open, he almost slammed the door on his foot in his hurry.

“Do you know how to get there?” He asked. He could apologize once they were on their way.

Dakota silently nodded and started the car. His eyes were bloodshot, and it clashed horribly with the brown in his irises. As he looked over his shoulder to reverse, Cavendish realized he’d never actually seen Dakota without his glasses. The man slept in them, for heaven’s sake!

He shifted uncomfortably as they pulled out of the parking lot. Dakota’s glasses poked him from the inside pocket he’d stuck them in.

“Dakota…”

He stopped as he realized that Dakota was practically curled into the steering wheel. He certainly didn’t _look_ like he wanted to talk about it. Dakota was easy-going; the type to move on without discussing something. Even after Cavendish had gone rogue, they’d only had the minimum of conversations about it.

“Why…” His voice came out in an uncertain squeak and he cleared his throat. “Why are you so insistent on wearing your glasses?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dakota mumbled. He squinted up at a traffic light.

“Do you need them to see?” Cavendish was suddenly very worried. Dakota was _driving_! It was a good thing he’d brought them!

“No.”

That was a relief. “Is it because of the light? It’s not that bright at these sorts of events, and it’s nearly dark anyways.”

Dakota shuddered and blinked hard several times in a row. His grip on the steering wheel tightened and Cav could hear his left foot tapping on the floor of the car. “Are you alright?”

“I…” Dakota trailed off, looking lost. Cavendish swallowed hard at the change but didn’t dare interrupt. “Don’t wanna talk about it,” he finally muttered with another shudder and blinking fit. They swerved dangerously close to the sidewalk.

“Do you want me to drive?”

“No.” The word was forced, and he started smacking his palms against the steering wheel. He’d done this before, but only ever to music. This frantic rhythm was making Cavendish nervous.

“Pull over, you’re clearly not fit to drive…”

Dakota made a sort of strangled yell and hit his head on the steering wheel. Cavendish startled. “What the devil, man? Pull over!”

Cavendish hit the hazard lights and grabbed the wheel. Dakota took his foot off the gas and they rolled to a stop on the shoulder. Cav put it into park and let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

Dakota was crying, alternately hitting his head and shaking it violently, both feet kicking at the floor of the car, hands slamming against his thighs. Cavendish bit at his fingernails. He should help, he should stop this, but on the other hand _what could he do???_

_This is your fault, this is all your fault this is all your fault this is all your fault this is all_

Dakota’s glasses poked him again and he snatched them out of his pocket. “Here!” He held them out towards Dakota, but he didn’t notice. “Dakota!” More head hitting, he’d have a bruise in the morning. “Vinnie!” He grabbed his shoulder and Dakota cried harder and flinched away.

“Vinnie please, I have your glasses. It’ll be alright, you just have to stop!”

Dakota started rocking back and forth. One hand was pulling at his hair, but he was biting his other wrist. Cavendish saw blood and grabbed his arm. “No! Bad Dakota!”

He struggled against Cavendish’s grip for a few moments before breaking free. Cavendish lunged for his arm again, but he twisted his hand in his hair with his other one.

He was listening. Cavendish flooded with relief.

“If… if you’re done hitting your head, I have your glasses.”

Dakota groaned loudly and smacked his head against the back of the seat a few times.

“Good enough,” Cavendish muttered. He carefully unfolded the glasses and shuffled closer to Dakota. “Just hold still, I’ll put them on for you.”

He made a high-pitched noise but let Cavendish slide them onto his face. He opened his eyes the tiniest bit and started crying again. One of his hands unraveled from his hair to squeeze the life out of the steering wheel.

“Is that better?” Cavendish asked. He seemed a little less tense now.

There was something that could have been interpreted as a nod before Dakota curled into himself with a whine. Cavendish tried putting a hand on his back, but he flinched away, so he looked around the car instead, trying to find something that would help. His eyes fell on the clock. They were running late. Extremely late.

“Do you want to trade seats? That way I can drive while you recover?”

A low negative noise came from the ball of Dakota.

“We do have to go; we can’t not show up after we said we would be there…”

Dakota interrupted him by shoving a hand up at his face. Cavendish stared cross-eyed at it, before realizing what he meant. “Five minutes?”

A more positive noise.

“Well…” He glanced at the clock. “Yes, I suppose that would work,” he said around his fingertips. His nails were nearly non-existent, but he let himself bite at the stubs anyways. It was calming, and Dakota was in no position to see.

The minute turned. Four more, and his partner would be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...we hope


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing the random long chapter...  
> CW: implied/referenced past abuse

Cavendish tasted blood and jerked his fingers away from his mouth. He’d chewed his nails to the quick. What a horrible habit. He was suddenly glad for the gloves tucked into his jacket.

He glanced at the clock. 6:59 still. Surely it had been longer than that. Dakota had said he’d be better twenty-six minutes ago, but he was still tucked into a ball with his head between his knees. Any attempt to touch him or coax him to move resulted in a low, pained growl. They were going to be _so late._

Cavendish tore his hands away from his mouth; when had they even got there? He really needed to stop such a childish habit. Dakota shifted slightly in his seat at Cavendish’s grunt.

“Okay?” He asked.

Cavendish jumped in surprise. He really hadn’t been expecting Dakota to say anything, even if it did sound forced from the pit of his stomach. “Um… am I okay?” Dakota grunted in affirmation. “Yes… just… we really must be going.”

Dakota shuddered and his foot started tapping against the floor again. Cavendish’s eyes widened. “No! Stop that! We don’t have time for that again!”

Dakota turned his head to the side to glare at him. “No.”

Cavendish glanced at the clock again. 7:02. “Let me drive?”

“No.”

“Now that’s just ridiculous! You’re clearly in no shape to drive and I can get us there on time! This is _important_ , Dakota! What has gotten into you tonight?”

The angry, sad look Dakota gave him wiped away any satisfaction Cavendish had got from yelling. “Don’t want… this either,” his partner muttered.

Cavendish stared down at his bleeding fingertips and took a long breath. What was wrong with _him_? His partner had just had some sort of attack and he hadn’t even bothered to ask him if he needed anything.

“Do you… do you need anything? Is there any way I can help?” He asked. Besides, maybe this could get them on the road again faster.

Dakota tucked his face back into his knees. “No.”

“Could you at least tell me what happened?”

Dakota didn’t reply. Cavendish sighed and stared out the window. What was it Hildegard had told him that one time? _If someone isn’t opening up, then try being open with them, and sooner or later they open up too._

He took a deep breath. Dakota was his partner. He wasn’t going to laugh at him… probably. He certainly hoped he wouldn’t.

“I… want to make a good impression,” he said lamely. Like Dakota didn’t already know that. The other half of Hildegard’s advice floated across his mind. _I know it’s hard for you…_ That felt like a massive understatement. He hardly understood his own emotions, how was he supposed to put them into _words_?

He heard the shuffle of cloth and looked down at his partner. Dakota had turned his head again and was watching him. Was that grimace for him? Or was he in some sort of pain?

“I want you to make a good impression. For… us to make a good impression. Together.” That was sufficient, right? Dakota knew how hard this was for him.

“Really care ‘bout what they think.” Dakota scrunched up his face and blinked hard a few times but then settled again.

“Yes.” Cavendish looked down at his hands wringing themselves together. “I want this to go well.”

“I’m in ya way.”

“No! Yes…” Cavendish buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know. I want you to be okay, I want this all to go well and everyone to be happy. Clearly that didn’t happen, but I don’t think I’m angry at you. Just the situation.”

“Yeah.” A truck sped by with a roar. Dakota whimpered and flinched back into a ball.

“What…?” Cavendish frowned at his partner. “It’s just a truck.”

“Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud. Loud.” Dakota was rocking in time to the word, hands buried in his hair again.

“It’s too loud!” Cavendish slapped a hand over his mouth as Dakota flinched away from his sudden increase in volume. “Oh bother.” His gaze fell on Dakota’s headphones and he snatched them from the backseat.

“Headphones?” He whispered, holding them out to Dakota. His partner nodded, still rocking and repeating “loud” under his breath.

“I don’t believe I can put them on you while you’re moving like that.”

Dakota didn’t acknowledge him. Cavendish could hear the distant rumble of another truck. Blast, why were they all passing now? Was Murphy here to explain this luck?

As carefully as he could manage, he tried to slip Dakota’s headphones over his head. Dakota put his hands over Cavendish’s to guide him and Cavendish stared at him in surprise when he didn’t release them once the headphones were in place.

“Hug,” Dakota whispered, “Tight.” Cavendish paused. It was for Dakota. He was clearly upset and the worse off here. What was a little discomfort?

He leaned over the center console and wrapped his arms as tightly as he could around Dakota. He shuddered involuntarily as Dakota buried his face in his shoulder. _Stay strong._

Dakota knew his aversion to being touched. He _knew_ , and yet he still asked. He wouldn’t push that boundary unless he really needed it, right?

“Done.” Cavendish jerked back, scrubbing furiously at where Dakota had touched him. It felt like a million tiny bugs were crawling through his flesh. Why had he gotten the touchy partner?

Dakota squinted at him, feet tapping on the floor. “Sorry. Know it’s bad for you.”

“I’m _fine._ ” He squirmed against the seat and then let out a yelp as he saw the clock. “Dakota! It starts in fifteen minutes! We have to go!”

Dakota grimaced and rubbed a hand over his headphones. “Too loud.”

“No time for that! Get out and switch me seats!”

Incredibly, Dakota did as he was told. Cavendish turned the key in the ignition, hoping the car would start. Dakota curled into a ball in the corner of the seat.

“Flooding it,” he mumbled.

“I’m not flooding it!” The car sputtered to life and they pulled back onto the road.

“You goin’ fast, Cav,” Dakota said after several minutes.

“We can make it on time.”

“Careful. Don't like saving you when I'm like this.”

Cavendish took his eyes off the road to glance at his partner. “Like what?”

“After somethin’ like that. Too bright and loud and can’t think.” Dakota looked out the window.

Wait… too bright? “That’s why you’re so attached to your glasses,” Cavendish gasped.

“Yeah. Got sensory issues.”

“You knew what would happen when you left them!”

“Didn’t have a choice,” Dakota muttered, glaring at his hands.

Cavendish’s stomach turned as he remembered the fear and horror in Dakota’s eyes when he’d raised his hand. “I am aware that this may not be the easiest of subjects…” He trailed off as Dakota shook his head.

“Don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”

Cavendish pursed his lips as he took a corner at a probably dangerous speed. “Then… all I wish to say is that I would never lay a hand on you, even in the heat of anger.” He glanced sideways to catch Dakota’s reaction.

His partner’s gaze turned sad and he nodded once before turning back to the window. Cavendish bit his lip. Had he said the wrong thing? Was it a lie? He had tried to grab Dakota’s glasses… had that felt the same as someone taking his hat or Dennis? He sighed. It certainly seemed like the time for an apology.

“I am sorry for my actions. I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

“Said I didn’t wanna talk about it,” Dakota interrupted. Cavendish deflated. He wasn’t an awkward child anymore; when would he learn to say the right things? No wonder the only person he could find for his plus one was his _coworker_.

“There gonna be food there?” Dakota asked. He was barely smiling, but it was a joke. Cavendish tried his best to return it.

“Of course. It simply wouldn’t be the Spring Ball without food! Although, make sure to remember the etiquette I taught you and don’t simply stuff everything in your mouth.”

“Aw, but that’s my favorite way of eating.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bam! Sudden chapter break!  
> I'm really bad at chapter breaks.
> 
> Comment if you got thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: pretty intense/detailed anxiety attack in limited 3rd person

They arrived just a few minutes late. “We’re fashionably late, that’s a thing, isn’t it?” Dakota asked as they got out of the car and handed the keys to the valet.

Cavendish glanced sideways at his partner. Dakota’s shoulders were a bit hunched and those blinking, shuddering fits still hit him every few minutes. But at least when he saw Cavendish looking at him, he smiled and gave him a thumbs up.

“Yes, I suppose it is a thing,” Cavendish said finally, “But my parents value punctuality.” He stared up at the familiar mansion, twisting the life out of his hands.

“Hey.” Dakota reached over and grabbed one of his hands. Through both their gloves, it wasn’t bad, comforting even. Dakota beamed up at him, eyes bright and earnest through his familiar glasses. “Let’s blow them away.”

Cavendish felt his face flood unexpectedly with heat in stark contrast to the winter night air. “Yes, let’s,” he said softly. He squeezed Dakota’s hand and then released it as he started up the path.

They were escorted down a hallway to the ballroom. Dakota seemed in awe of their rich surroundings. “Wow, Cav, when you said fancy, I didn’t think you meant this fancy! How much money do you guys even have?”

“Dakota, you cannot ask such things!” Cavendish glared at his partner for the moment before they reached the doorway.

Light violin music and chatter floated up the stairs to the landing they emerged on. The warm, bright light from the chandeliers reflected off the marble pillars and polished floors. A refreshment table was laid out on the left side of the room, but it seemed the meal would be served later.

“Wow, this place is bright. I would’ve died without my glasses,” Dakota whispered beside him. Cavendish glanced down at his partner, unable to feel anything but the anxiety threatening to consume him.

Dimly, he saw Dakota smile up at him and felt him link their pinkies. “Earth to Cav? You gotta breathe, man.”

Breathe? That had been easier in the car when his ribs weren’t unmovable stone. He watched Dakota’s eyes move. There was no recognizable pattern, but it was the only thing alive in the world. A gray-white buzz filled his other senses except for Dakota’s hand shifting in his, squeezing hard. It was an anchor, the only thing he could process anymore. Dakota had done so much for him. Dakota was calm and personable and capable. Dakota would realize he’d lost his surroundings. Dakota would fix this, would keep him safe, would make sure no one else knew what was happening. Dakota…

The angle of Dakota’s hand changed abruptly, and Cavendish felt himself stumble. An arm brushed around his shoulders and the buzz intensified angrily. He needed to pull himself together, someone was asking him something, talking talking talking

Dakota’s fingers squeezed almost hard enough to cramp the muscles in Cavendish’s hand. He was still there. Dakota was still there, Dakota was fine, Dakota was fine, Dakota would be fine, he would be fine, they would both be fine. Yes, that was the thought he was looking for. They would both be fine.

The room was suddenly much darker. Cavendish tried to say something, anything, to communicate, he was alive, he was _trapped,_ and felt Dakota’s hand squeeze in return.

Something very cold stuck against his free hand. He yanked his hand away, but the buzz was already replaced with an unpleasant sting. His other hand was being crushed and he tried to pull it out of whatever trap it had gotten into, but it was stuck it was stuck it was stuck stuck stuck stuck stuck

Something cold and wet slipped down his back, freezing his thoughts. It settled at the base of his spine, right above the tight loop of his belt. His hands were finally free, touching something soft and fluffy? No, that didn’t make any sense, that was hair why was he touching hair, it wasn’t his, it wasn’t his who was he with…

“…to the zoo, we’re going to the zoo, we’re going to the zoo, we’re going to the zoo, we’re going to the zoo…”

Unintelligible syllables, but from a calm, rhythmic, familiar, _safe_ voice. “We’re going to the zoo, we’re going to the zoo, and then we’re gonna see some animals. We’re going to the zoo…”

Why were they going to the zoo? Were they at the zoo? No, why would something cold and wet be down his back at the zoo? Zoo, zoo zoo what was a zoo

“...see some animals…”

Animals! Of course, that was where he was what he was thinking, what was he doing at a zoo?

Cavendish cracked his eyes open. Light spilled from behind the silhouette of a door, but the room was dark. Calming. Safe. His hands were moving, twisting and playing with the fluffy hair of the person singing quietly in front of him. He was short, familiar, safe.

Dakota.

“Oh,” he said quietly. The singing stopped.

“You back with me?” Dakota asked. The whole world seemed hushed, dull, dark, safe.

“Not… where are we?”

“Closet. It was the closest place I could find. I turned the lights off and locked the door though, so I don’t think anyone will find us.”

Closet. Closet where? Somewhere with lights and music and people and

 _Oh_. _Oh fuck._

“Whoa, it’s okay Cav.” Dakota sounded surprised, genuinely surprised. How odd… had he spoken out loud? “We’re just gonna chill here for a minute, okay? No one’s gonna miss us. No one knows we’re in here. We’re okay. We’re safe. You’re safe.”

His heart was racing, his palms were slick with sweat, his brain was pounding with panic and Dakota had the nerve to say he was safe? How could he say that? How could he…

“You got me. You’re safe. I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

Dakota? Dakota could keep him safe. He knew that much; Dakota would do anything to keep him safe. There was a whole island of hims to testify to that.

Dakota began to hum and put a hand on Cavendish’s waist, just the right pressure to avoid the crawling sensation from other touches. How had Dakota memorized that? Their fingers slid together, and Cavendish felt himself pulled and pushed in a small, gentle box shuffle. He caught a few notes of a violin from under the door, and then a whole melody. He let himself lean on Dakota and their dance turned into a sway, Dakota holding him tight and secure and perfect and leading the motion.

“Are… Dakota, why are we dancing in a dark closet?” Cavendish asked after several minutes.

A familiar laugh bubbled up from where Dakota was tucked into his chest. “I don’t know, Cavendish, why _are_ we dancing in a dark closet?” There was a pause. “Actually I think this is a bathroom. There’s a toilet over there.”

“What?!” Cavendish tore himself out of his partner’s arms. Sure enough, there was a toilet and a sink tucked into the back of what otherwise looked like an ordinary cleaning closet. “Dakota, why are we in here?”

“You freaked out, I needed somewhere to bring you, this was the first door I found.”

“But why were we _dancing_?” If his parents caught sight of them like this…

Dakota shrugged. “I don’t know, I thought it might help calm you down. It worked, didn’t it?”

Cavendish tugged at his gloves and glanced towards the door. “Yes, I suppose it did. Thank you.”

“Any time, Cav. Now we got a party to rock, yeah?”

Cavendish’s stomach flipped and he was suddenly glad there was a toilet there. “I… yes,” he squeaked, fighting down the nausea.

“Hey.” Dakota reached out and tapped the back of Cavendish’s hand. “I know you want to show up and make a good impression, but maybe we shouldn’t…”

Cavendish straightened and whipped around towards the door. “No Dakota! If we can face down genocidal plant monsters and an orb of pure chaos, we can most certainly face my parents.”

Dakota stood by his side, so close their shoulders were brushing. “Let’s do this.”

Cavendish gulped and nodded before opening the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a plan for this chapter, but then it ran away.  
> Also yes, Dakota put an ice cube down Cav's shirt to help ground him.


End file.
